Stained Glass Eyes and Colourful Tears
by jewishushanka
Summary: There's a reason he visits him every month, Craig just hasn't discovered it yet. But tonight may be the night every thing comes together.


Craig couldn't see the boy that was standing before him but he certainly knew he was present. It's been known that after a person loses one sense, the others become more prominent and that was definitely the case for the twenty-three year old. Even though he couldn't see the boy, he could smell the scent that radiated off their body and he could hear each time they breathed through their nose. It was no doubt that this boy was the same one that visited on the last Friday of each month. They were the only one that really spoke to Craig after he lost his sight…

The incident occurred two years prior and most of the time, Craig didn't like to think back to it because it often raised a wrenching headache and pain to shoot through the eyes that still rest in the sockets.

He used to own eyes the colour of dark chocolate – so brown the pupils were almost no longer visible. They never changed hues but sometimes when the sun would hit them at the right angle, they'd shine brighter than before and appear glasslike. Peers liked to say they contrasted well with the light caramel colour of his skin and the dark shade of black of his hair. His eyes made Craig seem more alive, half the time his eyes were what gave him the appearance of emotion. Now that they were gone was probably the reason why people no longer came to visit – they couldn't stand being in his presence having to stare into eyes that were now milky white with red, tinted skin surrounding.

Craig never thought of himself having enemies but that assumption was wrong the moment he announced it. He was oblivious to most things that went on around him, mainly because he didn't care about anything but himself and when he wasn't caring about himself, then he cared about absolutely nothing. He was selfish and there was no denying that. This little factoid probably had to do with how he received enemies in the first place.

At the age of twenty-one, Craig Tucker attended college for photography. He used his eyes to find the right angles of what he thought was visually interesting. He liked to roam the streets at night in search of those who had it worse off than he did. He thought that these people told stories in just a simple photograph and the stories they were telling were something others needed to hear. On various occasions, Craig found himself in the situation of getting complained to by the people he was pointing his camera at. They didn't appreciate what the college student was trying to do. But then again – he never asked for their permission in the first place. And that was his first mistake.

Out of every citizen Craig took a photograph of, he hardly remembers any of them after his incident but he knows for a fact that one of them was who damaged his eyes.

The night of the incident he was walking back to the studio apartment he lived in. A black camera bag wrapped around his neck and a draw-string bag was strapped to his back. It was still dark out, the time being somewhere around 4 in the morning and all Craig wanted to do now was get to his apartment and crash on the couch that sat next to the front door. He wasn't aware that he was being followed. His hearing wasn't up to par back then like it is now. The stranger chose their steps wisely – every three Craig took they'd follow suit with two – always being one step behind. Their shoes didn't squeak like they usually did due to constantly being worn and the breeze that blew against the two worked in the strangers favour for covering any unnecessary noise.

By the time Craig reached the building his apartment resided in, the stranger was all but a few meters away. While Craig became preoccupied searching for the right key to open the door with, they brought a hand to the small of their back, reaching for the tool they stuck in the back of their pants. The next event happened in a blur. Craig could never properly recollect how everything went down. He should have been paying attention to the figure with the blade in hand… should have been paying attention to the face of the person who later struck the blade into the dark, chocolate eyes Craig used to take photographs with. It was his fault from the very beginning. For being selfish and inconsiderate of how his 'models' felt. He took his sight for granted – and now that sight was gone.

The pain was excruciating, especially when the blade pulled out from his eye sockets. Craig could feel as the knife drew out in a slow motion, he thought it wouldn't come out at first and his eye as a whole would be plucked, but when the blade was successfully removed and Craig was left with mutilated orbs still stuck in his skull, he silently cursed that they remained. Craig didn't cry tears, they were full of blood… trails of the dark, scarlet substance running down his cheeks. Screaming out in pain, the college student flailed against the apartment building – back slamming into the brick followed by his body slowly sliding down until his bottom reached the ground. Craig took the palms of his hands and rubbed them into his eyes that were beginning to swell. He couldn't see the stranger any longer but Craig knew they were still present, looking down at the pain they caused Craig and no doubt was the stranger smiling.

When Craig's parents were informed about the attack, they did nothing for their son. They lived in a separate city in a whole nother state and figured they didn't have the time for visiting their son who just recently lost his sight. Craig's younger sister, Ruby, came for one day while he was still in the hospital. After taking one look at her brother, she retched into a nearby trashcan then said her goodbyes for good. Craig was left with no one because although his friends felt sympathy they were conflicted as to how to maintain a relationship with a now blind friend. Most viewed Craig as weak and kept their distance.

It struck him as odd the first time the boy came to visit a few months back. Craig had no idea who the mysterious boy was, their voice didn't sound at all familiar nor did the stories they told him.

Tonight the twenty-three year old sat on his bed, cross-legged and running his hands over the fabric of his comforter. The boy sat adjacent in an old computer chair that was placed before a desktop computer that hadn't been used in over two years now. He kept swishing back and forth in the chair – every now and then making a full 360 turn – and his eyes never left Craig.

"Why don't you tell me the reason for visiting every month?"

"I really don't have one, in all reality I'm fascinated by you Craig. I'm interested in how you've grown from your accident. It's like you're a completely different person. After becoming blind, you've finally opened your eyes for the first time and became aware of everything but yourself."

Craig scratched his neck softly, tilting his head to the side as he did so. His nails were longer than he wanted them to be and that bothered him. But unable to trim them without in some way harming himself, Craig left them to grow, which meant occasionally tearing his skin at unnecessary moments. Now being one of them.

"I almost wish I had known you more before your accident. Instead of the few moments I had with you, being able to get to know who you were would have been a treat. Peers tell me you were stoic and very unemotional. I see glimpses of that now but majorly… I see loneliness and possible regret."

"You say you didn't know me but then you also say I'm a completely different person… Who are you, Kenny?"

Very rarely did Craig say the boy's name. It mainly had to do with being unable to match a face with a name and he'd rather the boy be a mystery all around but at this moment, Craig threw that aside and straight out pronounced their name.

"I'm whoever you want me to be. Your best friend… or your worst enemy."

Huffing loudly, the twenty-three year old crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm tired of the shit. Always beating around the bush. Who the hell are you? Who _is_ Kenny?"

The statement made Kenny tense – Craig could feel it in the air. As he blinked slowly, he could hear Kenny standing up, the chair rolling across the hardwood floor of his studio until it crashed against a faraway wall, reminding Craig of how he flailed against the building the night of his accident. He felt his bed sink low under pressure, the scent of Kenny growing stronger which only meant he was closer than before.

"It's your fault this happened to you, Craigy." Breath blew onto the crook of his neck. The cooling sensation sent chills to swarm across his light, caramel skin.

Craig gasped lightly. "… I don't understand."

"Just open your eyes…" Kenny lowered his voice to a whisper. He was now right in Craig's ear. He continued to move closer until Kenny was placing a soft kiss on his earlobe. "The answer is right in front of you."

"I know. I _know_ this. But answer it for me. Can't I cheat? Use my handicap as a cheatcode?!"

Throwing his head back, Kenny laughed right into Craig's eardrum. "You're so dense it _pisses me off!_ And that's why this whole incident happened in the first place. You didn't take other people's feelings into consideration _that's_ where you fucked up. All you cared about was yourself and what would get _you_ where you wanted in life. But now look around you, Craig! With your mutilated _fucking_ eyes, take a look. No one is here for you now and that's because of the person you used to be. If anything, I helped you."

It was a lot to take in and all Craig could do was sit in silence, mouth agape with Kenny still speaking into his ear.

"You…"

Leaning away from Craig a bit, Kenny moved to where his lips hovered over the blind boy's mouth. Whispering, he smiled as he spoke. "Has it finally clicked?" Not waiting for a response, he kissed Craig roughly. Craig could feel how chapped the boy's lips were and he tried to pull away, but the more he struggled, the rougher Kenny kissed him and eventually he felt his wet, tongue invade his mouth.

After a while, the twenty-three year old went limp, no longer did he respond to Kenny's actions. He was tired of feeding him what he wanted. That's why they were in this situation in the first place. Eventually Kenny pulled away and as he did he moved swiftly to the crook of Craig's neck. Snarling softly he flashed his teeth then went in for the kill.

It hurt the further Kenny dug his teeth into Craig's neck and once blood was drawn he cried out in pain. Whimpering softly, he attempted to pull away. "Stop… just stop."

Licking the bite, Kenny did exactly as told then sat back to face the other to take in the sight full on. He liked the way Craig looked – how the blood from the bite bunched up then flowed out and bled onto the t-shirt below. But what he admired the most were the eyes of the blind. It amazed him how the skin around the orbs was still red and irritated, that it contrasted well with how white those orbs now were. Kenny remembered how brown Craig's eyes used to be. Even though he only witnessed them once, he noticed how no emotion showed when a photograph was snapped and a flash brightened the alleyway in the nighttime. After that event, and the others he's heard from those around him, Kenny took it as _his_ job to punish Craig for the misery he made the citizens of their city feel after a photo was taken.

It wasn't too hard to track him down. Craig was the only one who was dressed nice enough and dared to walk on the bad side of town without any worry. Always carrying a switchblade worked in Kenny's favour and going for the eyes was the smartest decision he ever made.

The way Kenny saw it, if you took away the one thing necessary for a career in photography it would no longer follow through and he knew that was Craig Tucker's passion. The second plus to attacking those organs was if Craig didn't get a clear view of the person who attacked him, he couldn't explain to the police the perpetrator and Kenny would never be caught. And now two years later, the truth finally came out, but Kenny knew there was nothing Craig would do about it now.

Glancing over to the analog clock on the wall above Craig's bed, Kenny took notice that it was midnight – the time he usually left when a visit took place. "It's midnight now, so I should probably leave. I'll still continue to visit you Craigy. Because I know you have no one else that will listen to you and to be honest, I've grown accustomed to you. I think… I actually like you."

Craig couldn't see the boy leave his studio apartment but he knew that he had. His hearing picked up every step he took until meeting the front door and he listened to him as he turned the doorknob, opened the door, and then swiftly slammed it shut. The whole night was a lot to take in and all Craig could do was replay the event over and over and wonder how the next visit would happen.


End file.
